


Reprieve

by carolinecrane



Series: Aftermath [31]
Category: The Brotherhood 2: Young Warlocks (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-05
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more things change, the more they stay the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reprieve

He doesn't plan to kiss Marcus until it happens.  Doesn't plan to pull back and look at him, doesn't plan to ask for fucking _permission_ before he does it again.  He doesn't plan to slide a hand into Marcus' hair – too short to hold onto now – and he doesn't plan for the way his heart thuds in his chest when Marcus kisses him back.

He didn't plan for any of this when he got in his car and drove down from San Francisco, but now that it's happening he knows he won't be able to stop it.  Doesn't want to, because he's been thinking about this moment for six years – telling himself he doesn't want exactly this – and even if it's just unfinished business, there's no way he's going to pass it up.

"You really looked for me for a year?" 

Marcus' voice is breathy and soft, the words tickling Harlan's forehead as he mouths his way down Marcus' neck to suck at the soft skin there.  And he didn't plan that either, but Marcus isn't complaining yet. 

He thinks about telling Marcus that it's been more than just a year.  That he's been looking since Marcus left, searching faces in every airport and every hotel lobby, every restaurant where he wines and dines clients.  He thinks about admitting that it took him a year to run out of phone numbers to call, that he probably talked to everyone at M.I.T. and half of the greater Boston area before he finally had to admit to himself that Marcus didn't run there after all.  He thinks about telling Marcus that he's always been at the back of Harlan's mind, like a song he can't get out of his head.

Instead he just murmurs a muffled 'yes' against Marcus' skin, not even looking up to see Marcus' reaction because it's been way too long since they did this, and he has a lot of catching up to do. 

He thought he remembered everything about Marcus; the way he smells, the feel of his skin under Harlan's fingers, the surprised 'oh' he lets out when Harlan finds that one spot just above his collarbone.  He thought he remembered the way Marcus' fingers curve around his biceps, digging in just enough to remind Harlan that he's there, that he's barely holding on to his self-control. 

And it's all the same, but it's different too.  Marcus' fingers don't flex desperately against him, trying with everything in him to keep from doing or saying something he can't take back.  He's…surer, maybe, more in control and when he presses his hands against Harlan's chest and pushes him backwards, Harlan's too surprised to fight him.

For a second Marcus just looks at him, searching his face for something and Harlan braces himself to hear 'this is a mistake' or 'there's someone else'.  He knows it's possible – probable – but just for tonight he was kind of hoping Marcus would forget they had lives to go back to.  Just for tonight he wants to forget the past six years and just be him and Marcus again, with no Luc and no Van Owen and no responsibilities hanging over them.

But Marcus doesn't say any of those things.  He doesn't try to pull away, either, to put some distance between them while he tells Harlan all the reasons they can't just pretend the past six years never happened.  His hand's still resting on Harlan's chest, fingers curled around his shirt like maybe he's worried that Harlan's the one who's going to try to pull away.

"I'm sorry."

He's not telling Harlan to stop, but he's not letting it go either, and Harlan swallows a frustrated sigh because they're so close, just a few inches and a couple layers of clothes between them and he doesn't want to talk about this right now. Only they have to talk about it sometime, and there's still a part of him that wants to shake Marcus for wasting six years of their lives.

"You should be fucking sorry."  He lets go then, pulls out of Marcus' grip to run his fingers through his hair.  "Six years, Marcus, and you couldn't even pick up a phone?"

At first Marcus doesn't answer; he sits up, hands clasped in front of him like he's trying not to touch, one knee close enough to Harlan's that he can still feel Marcus' body heat.  He's staring down at his hands like he's thinking about what to say, like he's not really sure what the right answer to that question is.  And all Harlan wants is the truth, but he gets the feeling Marcus is still having a little trouble with that concept.

"I wanted to," Marcus finally says, venturing a glance at Harlan and he looks so miserable that Harlan's sorry he asked.  "At first I didn't because I knew if you asked me to come back I would.  And after…I guess I just figured you wouldn't want to hear from me.  I figured you'd get on with your life and forget all about me."

"Yeah, well, I probably should have," he says, but when Marcus flinches it doesn't make him feel any better.  In fact, it makes everything worse, because now he knows they could have been together all this time.  "So what the hell were you doing all that time?"

"Not a lot," Marcus answers, still staring down at his hands like maybe he's going to find the answers to Harlan's questions written there.  "Working, mostly.  Going to school when I could afford it.  Sleeping with guys who reminded me of you."

He looks up as he says the last part, something like regret in his eyes and Harlan clamps down hard on a surge of jealousy.  Because it's not like he really thought Marcus was out there pining for him all this time, and the fact that he was…well, it doesn't make it any easier to think about Marcus with other guys, but it's something.  At least he was _thinking_ about Harlan, and even if he's just saying it for Harlan's benefit, he'll take it.

"Do you even know anybody in Chicago?"

"Not when I got there.  I do now."

"Right.  All those guys who remind you of me."

"There weren't that many," Marcus says, and this time when he looks up he's smiling.  "You're a pretty hard guy to replace."

He doesn't tell Marcus that he never even bothered trying.  That for the past six years he's been sleeping with whoever was convenient at the time, because none of them were Marcus so it didn't really matter who they were.  He doesn't tell Marcus how much he missed this, but he's pretty sure Marcus can tell when he's leaning in, hand sliding into Marcus' hair to tilt his head just so.

Their mouths fit together just the way he remembers, and when Marcus kisses him back it's sort of…comforting.  Like maybe the last six years was just an intermission, just something they both had to do to make sure this was for real.

Marcus is kissing him slow, hands sliding down his chest and back up again, moving restlessly along his shoulders like he's trying not to pull Harlan even closer.  Or maybe he's just trying to memorize everything about this moment, because it's been way too long and they both know how quickly it can all disappear again.

"Where'd you live?"  And he's not even sure why he's asking, but he still doesn't know anything about Marcus' life since he took off, and he needs to fill in some of the blanks.

"Nowhere, at first," Marcus answers, pulling back to breathe the words against Harlan's cheek.  "After awhile I met some people and they helped me out."

Harlan resists the urge to tell Marcus again that he could have just called.  He could have picked up the phone and just said he needed some cash, and Harlan would have gotten it to him.  Sure, he would have tried to find out where Marcus was, but he still would have given Marcus whatever he needed.  Only he knows why Marcus didn't call, knows how stubborn he was back then and probably still is, so he doesn't bother.  Instead he presses another soft kiss to Marcus' lips just because he can, and that's a novelty he's going to have to get used to all over again.

"So you just…what, lived on the streets?"

"It wasn't that bad," Marcus says, but Harlan can tell he's lying, and it takes everything in him not to ask what exactly Marcus had to do to get by in those first few weeks.  "I wanted to call you a million times."

There's no point telling Marcus how many times Harlan wished he would call; he has a feeling Marcus already knows, and anyway he doesn't want to relive all the time he spent staring at the phone like some lovesick teenager.  He doesn't want to think about it at all, because thinking about it just pisses him off and he doesn't want to be mad at Marcus anymore. 

"You're an idiot," he murmurs and kisses Marcus again, harder this time and somehow he manages to pull them off the couch without knocking anything over.  They're halfway to the bed when he stops again, pulling back to look down at a very dazed and flushed Marcus.  "When'd you quit smoking?"

"When I had to decide between cigarettes and food," Marcus answers, not quite meeting Harlan's gaze and now he does want to smack Marcus for being so stubborn.  Not that he misses the cigarettes; he always liked Marcus just a little better when he didn't smell like an ashtray, but if he wasn't so stubborn he wouldn't have had to make those kinds of decisions.

But it's impossible to stay mad for long, because Marcus' hands are already working on the buttons of his shirt, fingers sliding against each new bit of skin he reveals and Harlan's not even sure when he lost his jacket.  He kicks off his shoes and reaches for the waistband of Marcus' t-shirt, pushing it up over his chest and Marcus raises his arms obediently to let Harlan pull it off.

It's all familiar and new at the same time; Marcus has filled out some from the skinny teenager Harlan remembers, but he still turns the same color red when Harlan's gaze strays down the length of his body.  And it still looks good on him, especially when Harlan reaches for the button on his jeans and slowly slides his zipper down.

"You're not planning on running out on me again, are you?" he asks, only half-kidding because yeah, he knows where Marcus lives now, but Harlan's not going to go chasing after him twice.

For a second Marcus just looks at him, still blushing but his eyes are wide with something close enough to panic to make Harlan wish he hadn't said anything.  "No," he finally says, surging forward to kiss Harlan and this time there's nothing slow about it.  "No," he murmurs against Harlan's mouth over and over, until finally Harlan pushes his tongue past Marcus' teeth just to make him stop talking.

Harlan manages to get them out of the rest of their clothes before he pushes Marcus back onto the bed, pausing long enough to dig a condom out of his wallet and it's habit now, but he can remember when they didn't need to bother.  Remembers when he was the only person who'd ever touched Marcus, when he barely had much more experience himself and they didn't worry about stuff like STDs and other partners.  Back then they didn't worry about much of anything; at least he thought they didn't, but it turned out he'd been wrong about that too.

He pushes down the surge of anger at that thought and focuses his attention on Marcus.  Marcus' mouth, slightly open and breathing out little puffs of hot air when Harlan leans over to kiss him again.  Marcus' hands, sliding down his back and across his ass, and that's something the old Marcus never would have been brave enough to do.  Harlan grins at the thought and kisses his way down Marcus' neck, past his collarbone and down the center of his chest.  He stops when he's just above Marcus' bellybutton, something unfamiliar catching his attention and he glances at Marcus' arm to find a scar he's never seen before.

"What's this?" he asks, reaching out to run his fingers along the patch of rough skin just below the inside of Marcus' elbow.

"Nothing."  Marcus' fingers are in his hair, stroking slowly along his scalp and he's looking down at Harlan through half-closed eyes.  "Just a burn.  Happened a few years ago."

It's another reminder of all the time they've missed, all the years when Harlan wasn't a part of Marcus' life.  He wants to ask how it happened, wants to search every inch of Marcus' body for new marks and demand the story behind every one.  Instead he shifts a little, just enough to press his lips to the bottom of the scar.  He wants to mark the spot, to claim Marcus the way he used to when they were kids.  But they're not kids anymore, and he doesn't have anything to prove to anybody.

That's what he tells himself as he makes his way down Marcus' forearm, lifting Marcus' hand and sucking each finger into his mouth one by one.  Marcus gasps and pushes up against him, cock straining against Harlan's chest and it's nice to know he can still have this affect on Marcus.  Nice to know Marcus still wants him after all this time, because Harlan's spent a lot of nights alone in his penthouse telling himself he needs to get over it.

No amount of berating himself ever worked, though, and now it doesn't matter, because Marcus is here and he's not planning on going anywhere.  And Harlan wants to believe that, so he pushes the lingering doubt to the back of his mind and reminds himself that Marcus doesn't have any reason to run this time.  That whole thing with Luc has been over for years, and if Marcus hadn't been so busy punishing himself for leaving in the first place they could have been doing this a long time ago.

But none of that matters now, because they're here and Marcus is pushing up even harder against him, fingers clutching the expensive hotel sheets as Harlan closes his mouth around Marcus' cock.  He's taking his time, remembering the way Marcus tastes and the weight of his cock on Harlan's tongue.  He remembers the breathy little moans Marcus lets out when Harlan's teeth graze the underside of his cock, and he remembers the way Marcus pushes up against him, legs spread as far as they'll go and wordlessly asking for more.

He's not thinking about who else has done this to Marcus.  He's not thinking about nameless guys with his build and dirty blond hair, hands like his – but not _his_ – on Marcus' skin.  He's not thinking about all the times Marcus closed his eyes and let someone else fuck him, never looking because that way he could pretend it was Harlan pushing inside him.

He's not thinking about any of that, because Marcus' eyes are open now and he's watching as Harlan sucks two fingers into his mouth.  When he's sure they're wet enough he reaches down, pushing his hand between Marcus' legs and watching as Marcus presses up to meet him.  His fingers slide inside easily, cock twitching at the sight and when Marcus lets out another moan Harlan doesn't want to wait anymore.

They can take their time later, because he's not planning to let Marcus out of this bed for a long time.  At least not if he can help it, and judging by the way Marcus is looking up at him Harlan's pretty sure he's not going to get any arguments. 

He pulls his hand away long enough to find the condom he dropped at the head of the bed, teeth gritted against the mix of pain-pleasure as he grips his own cock and rolls it down.  And he wasn't really planning to fuck Marcus when he left San Francisco, so he doesn't have any lube on him.  He could probably find something in the bathroom that would work, but he doesn't want to leave Marcus alone even for a few seconds.  And okay, maybe there's a part of him that's still afraid he's going to wake up and find out this was all just a dream.  Or worse, he'll come back from the bathroom and Marcus will be gone again, no trace left behind for Harlan to follow.

He ignores that thought and settles between Marcus' legs again, hands on his thighs to push his knees toward his chest and when he leans in and slides his tongue from Marcus' balls to the entrance to his body, Marcus murmurs something incoherent and pushes down into the touch.  Harlan remembers this too; remembers how much Marcus always loved this, how surprised he always seemed whenever Harlan's tongue slid inside him and how fast Marcus forgot to be self-conscious when he was like this.  It was always the fastest way to make Marcus lose his inhibitions, to make him beg Harlan to fuck him with words instead of just that body of his.  And Harlan loved that, loved hearing Marcus say the words and loved watching his skin flush with need instead of embarrassment for once.

He's flushed this time too, mouth open and panting and Harlan can tell how close he is already.  Just from Harlan's tongue, and it's still as hot as it was when they were seventeen.  Hotter, maybe, because Marcus has been with other guys since then and Harlan can still make him lose complete control.

Harlan's not sure how much longer he can last, and when Marcus moans his name that's all he can take.  He climbs back over Marcus, gripping his cock with one hand and leaning in to claim Marcus' mouth as he slides inside.  Instantly Marcus' legs wrap around him, pulling him even closer and Harlan lets out a groan and starts moving. 

Marcus is kissing him back like he's afraid it's the last chance he'll get, and the thought sends a shiver through Harlan that doesn't have anything to do with the way Marcus is making him feel.  He ignores it and focuses instead on the steady murmur coming from Marcus, mostly gibberish but he can make out a few words here and there.  And none of it makes any sense, but Harlan gets it anyway, and he's not sure whether he wants to kill Marcus for disappearing or just kiss him until they can't remember all the years they spent apart.

He pulls back to look at Marcus, taking in flushed cheeks and parted, kiss-swollen lips.  One hand slides under Marcus' thigh to push his leg up even higher, shifting his position until he finds that spot inside Marcus that makes him moan and close his eyes against the sudden wave of pleasure.  And he likes having that kind of control over Marcus, so he does it again, then again and he knows he's not going to last much longer. 

Doesn't care, because it's still early and neither of them is going anywhere.  He's sure of that now, so he's not disappointed when he thrusts one last time and lets go.  He's vaguely aware of Marcus' legs tightening even harder around his waist, hands on his arms and then on his back as he collapses on top of the body still pinned under him.  When the last shudder subsides he turns his face into Marcus' neck, mouthing hot kisses along a pale jaw as he reaches between them and grips Marcus' cock. 

Distantly he hears Marcus moan, feels the heat of the body thrusting up into his grip, faster and faster until finally Marcus tenses against him and comes.  Harlan hears someone murmuring soothing sounds and recognizes his own voice, but he can't make himself care if he sounds like an idiot.  Anyway, Marcus doesn't seem to care, because he's already turning into Harlan and kissing him again, slow this time like he finally believes this is really happening.

"I missed you," Marcus murmurs against his skin, and it's not even the first time he's said it tonight but it still makes Harlan's heart skip a beat.  He's tempted to point out that that's Marcus' own fault, that there was no reason for either of them to go through six years of wondering.  But he has a feeling Marcus already knows all that, so instead he slides a hand around Marcus' waist and kisses him again.

"Yeah, me too," he says, and he's not sure if Marcus hears him, but it doesn't matter, because Harlan's pretty sure he already knows that too.


End file.
